The Scorned King (The Wounded Knight sequel)
by RollieZCheezKake
Summary: Years have passed since Arthur and Alfred took the throne, and after years of relative tranquility, and having almost nothing to do with the Russians, all of that changes overnight. Julius, a womanly alpha and Dominic, a dominating omega meet on the battlefield as a result of their fathers' feud, find comfort and eventually love, but can their fathers look past their own hate
1. Chapter 1

**Hello guys, long time, no see. This takes place 3 or four years after the wounded knight ended, and Julius is all grown up. This is going to be a lot shorter, about 9 chapters total.**

He scrunched up his nose as he listened to the other king speak. It was a little difficult to understand every word because the man across from him had a very deep Russian accent, and because English wasn't his first language, his sentences were hardly grammatically correct. Of course, Alfred was just being knit-picky; he hated king Ivan Braginski with all of his might, and he couldn't wait for this stupid meeting to be over. Arthur, his queen, must have felt the alpha's annoyance because suddenly he placed a soft hand to his knee.

"Patience," the Briton whispered to him. "This meeting is about generational peace, not about your petty feelings." Alfred heeded his warning, a little upset that, once again, his queen was right. After a heated skirmish two years ago, over of hundred American and Russian soldiers were left dead. The whole event weighed on Alfred heavily because as king he found himself personally responsible for every life taken, and he figured it was his duty to his people never to allow anything like that from happening again. Which was why Alfred had Chancy right a letter to the Russians, a proposition of potential peace, a letter that was met with a surprisingly warm reply from Queen Gilbert. After a few more written exchanges, the two agreed to discuss future relations after the world meeting held in Virginia. Now the time has come, all of the other royals already retired to their rooms, and almost all of Alfred's fake hospitality was fading.

"It was a bit of a surprise to us that you sent a letter after your defeat," Ivan said coldly, gazing at Alfred with almost amused eyes. Alfred barred his teeth.

"If anything, my soldiers won," Alfred responded snappily. Arthur squeezed his knee from underneath the table in warning. Alfred groaned in annoyance. "But either way, we both lost a considerable amount of lives, and it would be better for everyone involved that we extend diplomacy to each other." The American was trying to be the bigger person, but a part of him wanted Ivan to say something slick so he could hound on him, literally. There was a brief pause, Gilbert glaring holes into the sides of his husband's face. The Russian sighed heavily, as if he too wanted an excuse to fight Alfred one-on-one.

"Perhaps," the Russian started, "for once we agree on something, we do need to reconcile our differences for sake of our people." He looked surprisingly sincere, though only the trained eye can see his minute facial changes. "We need a lasting agreement, a connection, to forge some sort of relationship between our... kind." At the last word, Ivan almost whispered it, but Alfred's lycan ears could hear him just fine. What did he mean by that? Alfred closed his eyes and counted to 10, taking a sip of his water. No need to linger on it, he had business to tend to.

"I am proposing trade routes and imports," Arthur suggested, and Gilbert and Ivan eyed each other warily before turning back to face Arthur.

"We've made agreements like this in the past with the past American king. It did very little to end our conflicts." The Russian king sighed, and Arthur cleared his throat.

"You know very well that we're nothing like the last monarchs." The Russian monarchs arched their brows at him, and though it was clear that they wanted to interject, they didn't for manner's sake. "Those last agreements were trivial in nature: one or two routes here, a third and a fourth to the east. However, what we're trying to do now is not only offering valuable routes and ports, but also a symbolic extension of our efforts to get on better terms with you." Ivan parted his lips, but before he could speak, Gilbert clicked his tongue.

"Perhaps domestically, you serve better than the king and queen before you, but in the last 15 years of your reign, you upheld the same brutal treatment towards us." There was a brief pause as Gilbert scratched his head. "For one, one of your first acts as king was to aid Manchuria in our land dispute. You helped Germany send spies into my castle in a wicked attempt to steal me from my husband," though Gilbert was speaking quietly, he was far from calm. In fact, Alfred could hear every drop of venom in his voice. "In regards to your foreign policy, the apple didn't fall far from it's tree."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Arthur asked. Alfred could tell just by Arthur's tone that whatever the Russian said next would be rejected immediately. The albino queen scowled at the American monarchs, before sighing.

"We don't want to impose, and because we are genuine in our efforts to build our relationship, we will accept anything but that." Alfred and Arthur peered at him curiously, earning a cocky grin from the queen. "What, surprised that we're so awesome?" Arthur snorted, gulping down what was left of his drink.

"Yes," Arthur's voice oozed sarcasm, but by the way Gilbert's eyes lit up, Alfred could tell that the albino didn't catch it. Ivan definitely did, which was why he slowly shook his head in disappointment as his queen basked in fake praise. "Well, anyway, because we also want this new relationship to work, we will have to think about this overnight and come to you in the morning with a few more suggestions, however, I do implore you to reconsider trade agreements." They all stood at one, Gilbert and Arthur exchanging brief kisses on the cheek, and the alphas barely nodding at each other. As the Russian monarchs left the king's study, Alfred could have sworn that he heard Ivan chuckle, but it was so faint that it could have been his imagination.

"They're so annoying," Alfred huffed, leaning back on his desk. Arthur, his beautiful queen, nodded his head in agreement.

"So tiring."

"So what do we offer?" The king asked, a little annoyed, and Arthur sauntered over to him, wrapping an arm around his neck lovingly.

"I don't know, but you have all night to think about it."

* * *

That morning, Alfred and Arthur were too busy entertaining their guests, the other royals to actually meet with Ivan and Gilbert. It was breakfast, but with a dozen and a half royal families, including children, it was no less than a feast. They would all be staying for a few days because it would, without a doubt, be a tiring journey back to their home countries. The hall was full of chatter and laughter, Alfred making brief eye contact with Davie, who was trying to force feed Anya some vegetables. Geoffrey and Anya ate their breakfast in relative silence, probably put off by the unwarranted attention. Not only were the leaders of many countries here, so were their teenaged, hormonal children, children who did little to hide their gawking stares directed at the french ambassador's beautiful children. Davie, aware of the beauty of his little chaotic daughter, perched himself right next to her and glared down anyone who even looked in their general direction.

Geoffrey purposely positioned himself between his mother and father, not wanting a repeat of the last world meeting. Last year, the youngest daughter of Spain, while drunk, groped him at dinner. When he had complained about it, no one except his family had really taken him serious, and instead of blaming the young princess like they should have, they mocked Geoffrey for being bothered by being touched by a 14 year old, especially because at the time, he was 16. They told him he should be flattered that he was assaulted. Alfred hadn't heard about it until about a week later, and though Geoffrey and Anya were menaces to society, they were still his family, and he sent a strongly worded letter to Antonio and Lovino. Though the gesture gave Geoffrey some comfort, it did little to stop him from being distrustful of any and all strangers. More importantly, it made his temper even worse, and him far more protective of his sister, his 'baby' cousin Desdemona, and bombshell mother Chancy. Though he was sitting down quietly, he too was throwing death stares at people even glancing in his mother's direction, deep eyes threatening to send people's minds into the void. His angry face did little to make him less attractive however, and many princesses still watched him longingly.

Alfred was surprised Julius wasn't having a field day with this, laughing in his seat. Instead, Julius was nowhere to be found. As the king scanned the room, he couldn't find his boy, but he did find an empty seat next to Ivan and Gilbert. When he looked up at their expressions, he could see they were too looking around for their own 'son', Dominic Braginski. Dominic wasn't their biological son, instead, after Ivan's sister died almost 13 years ago, they raised then 7 year old Dominic as their own. After rumor went around claiming that Gilbert was barren, they formally adopted Dominic, making him their only heir. After a few minutes of watching trying to calmly look for their son, Ivan finally stood up, probably expecting some sort of fowl play. It wouldn't have been a stretch, Russia had no allies, and attacking the future king would have been a solid way to wreck their society. The American sighed. That would have been suicide, however, because if the Russians were good at anything, it was finding out information, and if anyone did anything to his son, he would have killed them and absorbed their territory.

The twerp was probably lost.

The Russian monarchs left the dining room abruptly, grabbing the attention of Arthur.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and Alfred shrugged.

"I think their looking for their little psycho," the king snickered, but his queen groaned, standing up.

"They'll be bitter if they get lost in our palace," he groaned. "We have to help them look." Alfred pouted and whined,but ultimately Arthur was right and he had no choice but to catch up with them. It took a few minutes, but eventually they did find the Russians, who were looking at each other with confused looks, wandering aimlessly. When they saw the Americans, Ivan scowled at them with surprising heat, causing Arthur to hesitate a bit. "We saw you wandering around. We wondered if you were lost." He said kindly, and the king paused before nodding.

"I think Dominic overslept. We need to find his room, but I forget how to get there." Ivan and Gilbert part in the middle, an invitation for the Americans to lead the way. It only took a few minutes for them to find his bedroom, and when they did, Gilbert banged on the door with surprising verocity. "Relax," Ivan snapped, but Gilbert was unfased. After a bit, Gilbert wore himself out, resting his arm on the handle.

"I don't think he's in- ah!" The door must have been unlocked because Gilbert's weight on the hand forced the door open. To everyone's relief, Dominic was sleeping soundly in bed, however it took a moment for everyone to register the shock of seeing someone curled up against him underneath the covers. Gilbert sputtered as he climbed to his feet. "V-v-v-VANYA!" he shrieked, causing everyone, including the two sleeping people, to jerk. Ivan told him to relax again, but Gilbert hissed at him. "Shut up! What if he catches something? He's sleeping with a stranger!"

Slowly yet surely Dominic came too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, body covered in love-bites and scratches. Gilbert gagged and Alfred laughed, clapping. It was hilarious, the bothered look in Ivan's eyes as his only heir groaned. "What now?" He asked tiredly with a surprisingly well concealed Russian accent. "Haven't you heard of knocking? We're in the land of the free, you can't barge around like you own anything while we're here." Ivan huffed at him, and Alfred continued to snickered. He liked this kid. "And who are those bozos behind you, hah? S.S, da?" His dull purple eyes glared at the American monarchs lazily.

There was a groan from underneath the covers, dainty hands peeking out from the covers. "Who are you talking too?" Said a hoarse voice, and just then a sickening feeling shot up Alfred's and Arthur's spine. They stood their quietly before turning to face each other, eyes flashing in fear and rage. Alfred pushed past the Russians to the side of the concealed second party. If God loved him, he wouldn't let this be who he thought it would be. He crouched down to his knees before clearing his voice, humming, the body under the covers growing rigid.

"Julius?" He growled, and the body almost turned to stone.

"Uh... no?" Said an unconvincing voice, and now it was the Russian's turn to laugh. Gilbert was pacing around the room angrily, Arthur joining him, both cursing loudly. "Maybe?" The voice changed his answer. Alfred began to tug on the blanket, Julius squeaking, when Dominic stopped his hand.

"At least let him get... cleaned up," he said cockily, Alfred taking a moment to realize what he meant. He scowled at him, snatching his hand away.

"You fools have 10 minutes."

* * *

Julius wouldn't make any eye-contact with his parents, sitting suspiciously close to the Russian prince as the Russians and Americans scolded them.

"You two are idiots!" Gilbert barked.

"I am so disappointed in you, Jules!" Arthur wept.

"This was quite irresponsible of you, Dominic," Ivan sighed.

"I hope you had fun, Julius, because from this day forward you will never leave my sight. Do I make myself clear?" Alfred hissed, clutching his son's chin and forcing him to lookup at him. "Do I?" he repeated, and hesitated before saying yes. Alfred turned his attention to Dominic, who was, unlike Julius, unfased by the yelling. He didn't even look at the very least ashamed. Alfred would have hanged him if it weren't for him being royalty.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Your little one night stand could very well cost your father his desperately needed peace with me." Alfred snapped, and Dominic looked at him in confusion. "Yeah, that's right, your parents and I were in the middle of negoti-"

"One night stand?" The Russian asked in confusion, Julius hissing at him with a glare. A glare that told him to shut up. Alfred looked down at his son in horror.

"This isn't your first time with him, huh?" He asked darkly. The blood flowing through him was boiling and it took all of his strength not to attack the two imbeciles in front of him. "You let... that defile you before?" He never been so disappointed in his son before. "You know, ever since..." Alfred wanted to lash out, insult and breakdown the boy, but even at his angriest he couldn't. Julius knew where the insult was going.

"What, ever since I lost my arm?" He asked bitterly, having the nerve to glare at his father as if he embarrassed him. He wiggled his body to emphasize the fact that one sleeve was empty. "I may be disabled, but I'm not a child!" He yelled, and Alfred took a threatening step forward, Julius shuffling backwards in shock in fear. "I'm 21 years old! I'm not even the heir to the throne anymore. You two locked me in my room for years, as if I were some invalid. I'm an adult-"

"Set for priesthood!" Arthur snapped, and Julius fell quiet. "And you've been having sex all the while training! How can anyone believe you to be responsible ever again?" Julius trembled, but no longer with fear, rather rage.

"I don't want to be a priest! I stopped wanting to be a priest years ago, but you wouldn't listen! You forced me into abstinence." He snapped, the entire room silent. "I told you time and time again to release me, and you two ignored me... Domi was-

"Did you just call him Domi?" Alfred asked, marching towards, fire behind his eyes. He was going to kill him, he was going to-

"Wait!" Alfred clenched his fists as Dominic dragged Julius behind him protectively. The Russian prince looked a little concerned now, but it was clearly only for Julius's safety. "It's not his fault, really. If any-"

"Don't you dare say another word," Ivan commanded, his son hesitating before continuing slowly.

"O-okay... Okay, but I can't just leave my mate in a situation like this. It's so hostile." He reasoned with his father, and Ivan looked at him in shock, before turning his gaze to the slim blond boy. Julius, cheeks red and eyes angry, whacked the Russian over the head as all adults closed in on them. Alfred could feel his claws emerging along with his fangs.

"You can't let your... what?" He asked in warning. This was the Russian's prince's last chance to run off alive and in one piece. Dominic, again, un-bothered, shrugged.

"My mate, for over a year," He said in challenge, Julius, a blushing mess behind him. "We've been writing each other letters weekly, and the only reason I came to this stupid meeting was to see him!" Alfred raised his fist and swung down, but Julius pushed his mate away just in time to avoid the fatal blow.

"DAD, Stop!" He begged, but Alfred only stopped because he could feel the magical constraints of his queen on him. He growled, walking away.

"I can't even look at you, Jules..." Alfred panted, Arthur caressing his arms. Ivan practically tossed his son aside in order to get to Julius, but Alfred could hardly bring himself to care what happened next. Ivan peered down at the effeminate alpha, before slowly looking over to his son.

"I've never seen an alpha look so womanly, it's uncanny. Hardly natural," he said curiously. It wasn't meant to be an insult, but Dominic took it that way.

"You've hardly seen any omegas that look like me either!" He countered, and Arthur and Alfred snapped their necks towards the boy. He... was an omega? But he gave off such a... domineering vibe, a fearless, reckless vibe, there was no way for anyone to tell he wasn't an alpha.

"Yes, but that's because you are mentally ill."

"For the last time I'm not!. I'm just not afraid of anyone! That's perfectly fine." Dominic yelled back.

"No, it's not," said all of the adults in the room.

"Look here, little one," Ivan looked Julius in the eyes, the blond quivering in terror. "Don't shake, I won't hurt you, da? How did you meet my son? Tell me the story." Like a school boy, he plopped himself down and crossed his legs, waiting patiently. "Whenever you are ready. And if the story isn't interesting, I'll save your father the trouble and kill Dominic myself." Alfred could tell Ivan wasn't serious on his threat, but by the way Julius plopped down, defeated, he bought the bait.

"Okay, okay, okay... but can I hold him." He reached out for his mate, and Ivan nodded, the two lovebirds shuffling towards each other. "It all started two years ago, during the battle."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you luvs for liking my first chapter. I really hope y'all like the rest of this story.**

 **Warning: Mentions of rape, incest, and sexual assault. This story is nothing but dark.**

 **Arthur POV**

The queen took a seat on Alfred's study desk, watching his adopted son Julius gather his wits to tell his story. His long ice blond hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and his clothing hung a bit off of his body. He had gotten thinner, Arthur had noticed for a while, skipping meals often and burying himself in his books. Of course it was no secret that Julius didn't skip those meals because he didn't want to see people, he skipped those meals because people didn't want to see him. Up until before his accident, he was well liked by pretty much everyone, and he was on the path to becoming king. It was only until the circumstances of his adoption become leaked did the whole public's perception of him went south.

Julius's biological parents were satanists, and sacrificed their lives along with all of their children. Well, Julius and one of his siblings made it out alive, but the other soon died due to infection. Julius was left on the street, delirious, before being found by the Palace's Ward Organization. That's when Arthur found him sobbing in his bathroom, lost and afraid, and Arthur didn't have it in him to call the guards or escort him. Instead, he played with him for days on end, convincing Alfred that he was a special child, the miracle they needed. When the news spread via old nurse gossiping, two fairly popular religious groups started preaching against him. They call him the anti-christ, the angel of death. Of course most people figured he was a regular child who lucked out one afternoon, the two groups were relentless. The stalked Julius, leaving pamphlets calling him a demon, and threatening his life. For months his parents did their best to protect, which for the most part meant keeping him inside.

However, just because Julius couldn't leave the castle didn't mean they couldn't enter it. One night, during dinner, a group of zealots forced their way past the guards at the front gate. It was an average night, they were all chatting, Geoffrey and Byron were making fun of Anya, who in turn teased her cousin Desdemona. Alfred was once again away on business, and Davie and Chancy were no where in sight, so it was basically Arthur's job to watch the kids. It was all jokes until the pack shoved their way into the dinning hall, easily 50 people. Arthur did his best to shuffle the kids out of the room, but in all of the chaos and confusion, he lost track of Julius, who ended up being chased down by at least 12 of them. Eventually, after 10 minutes of straight running, Julius was caught and dragged to one of the highest balconies in the castle, over 100 feet in the air. Those psychos surrounded him, forced him onto the railing and told him to say his last prayers.

And with that, they nudged him. Not hard, but with Julius's fear in combination with the narrow ledge, he lost his balance, plummeting. Thank God for Arthur's power, because otherwise Julius would have been dead. He gathered the winds to cradle his fall as soon as he could, unfortunately Julius collided with the side of the castle walls over 12 times before it was finally torn off by a very jagged edge. Arthur was devastated, but at the same time relieved that his son was at least alive. Everyone involved in the raid was executed without question. It took Alfred a whole month to return back from Germany, but when he did, he hadn't left Julius's side for weeks. However, no amount of affection could mend Julius's emotional trauma. He stopped talking to everyone, including his best friends and his siblings, he would hardly look his parents in the eyes. Arthur thought it would just be a phase. He was only 18 at the time, so he had hoped time would heal him.

It didn't.

Then the night terrors began to happen, and he would wake up screaming, saying that his missing arm hurt. Davie said it wasn't unheard of, these phantom pains, but nightmares took a toll on his appearance. He grew his hair out, but never took care of it, and lack of sleep made him hunch over, overall making him look witch-y. Julius hated leaving his room, but he did so when he wanted to eat, so that was pretty much his only social interaction for months. Alfred was completely content with this change, it was easier to protect Julius this way. By the end of the year, Julius announced at dinner that he refused to be king. After days of fighting, Alfred accepted it solemnly. Arthur didn't mind him renouncing the thrown, he was just worried about what he'd be doing for the rest of his life. He couldn't just rot away in his room. Therefore, Arthur insisted that Julius start looking into priesthood, as a way to help him find forgiveness.

After the skirmish broke out 2 years ago, the skirmish between American and Russian forces, Julius volunteered to go with a missionary group, to help raise their spirits. Alfred and Arthur refused, but Julius snuck onto the ship anyway on his 19th birthday, and only returned on his 20th. Arthur assumed that was where the little prince's story was going to start, as he snuck onto the boat.

"Mother..." he heard Julius say softly, grabbing his attention. "I know you're upset-"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." Arthur snapped at him.

"But, I beg you, please have an open mind." Julius looked exhausted even though he had only been up for a little over an hour. Arthur scowled at him, not responding as he crossed his arms. Julius sighed, knowing that was the most he'd get. "It all started on the boat. I had finally gotten into the hang of things on the ship, and I found myself serving as a mediator of minor disputes. Every Sunday I led the sermon, and people came to me with confessions. At the time, I really took the priesthood seriously, I mean, I thought anything would be better than being king, and as a priest, I would be able to lock myself away in a church forever." He explained, and Arthur could feel his eyes water all over again. Julius went through a very dark period of his life virtually alone, and the only reason he did what he did was because he wanted to run away form the pain, and the hurt. Arthur, despite his better judgement, caved in.

He marched over, shooting such a powerful glare at his son's lover that he had no choice but to untangle himself from the alpha in order to make more than enough room for the queen. Julius looked up at him in slight confusion, flinching as Arthur cupped his face before leaning into the gentle touch. Arthur dropped down onto his knees, embracing his miracle with his arms and not letting go. Julius buried his face into his mother's shoulder, struggling to hold back his tears. "It's gonna be okay Jules," Arthur whispered as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll fix this."

Julius shook his head, pulling away. "Fix what? If I don't tell my story Ivan is going to kill him." Him referring to Dominic, Arthur assumed.

The brit scoffed, "He's not going to kill his own son over this, he was kidding." He assured him, looking back at the Russian king who had a sheepish smile on his face. "See, he can't even keep a straight face," gesturing over to his slight smirk. "But we need to settle this as soon as possible. Gilbert?"

The albino queen was perched in the corner silently dozing off, having already gotten bored. He perked up a little at the sound of his name, but he didn't respond,only lazily eyeing the group across the room. Arthur repeated himself, rising to his feet and making his way to the German, arms outstretched. "What, are we not angry at them anymore?" he slurred, letting the other omega sit beside him.

"It'd be a little hypocritical if we are, wouldn't it?" Arthur responded. "Aside from me due to my circumstances, you, Ivan, and Alfred have had pre-marital sex. Now that we have allowed our initial anger to simmer down a bit, I think we ought to relax and think of a course of action. If Julius is marked by Dominic, then we have two options-"

"Annul the claiming or allow them to be," Ivan finished, rising to his feet and marching over to the omegas, plopping himself down on the floor next Gilbert's legs. He rested his ash-blond hair on his lover's lap and closed his eyes. "It's a shame, I really wanted to know the story." Arthur nodded too, perhaps the story would have been interesting, but more importantly useful in determining whether or not he should condone the relationship. Gilbert ran slender fingers through his husband's hair.

"Maybe we can let them finish tonight, after dinner. Alfred is still out there moping around, and I don't think he's coming back anytime soon," the albino muttered, and Arthur couldn't help but nod. He was right, Alfred needed to be present in order for everything to go smoothly. "But until then, I think we should give them the day alone, in case it's their last together." Arthur glanced at the German uneasily, unsure of his intention. The albino felt his eyes on him, so gave a reassuring smile. "I know what it's like, having the whole world against my relationship." The brit felt a pang in his heart, a spear of guilt for all of the trouble he and Alfred caused them during their first few years on the thrones. All they did was undermine their relationship and help Ludwig try and split them up by any means necessary. It's not like Arthur didn't like the two of them... it was just politics. A messy business, which is why Arthur preferred dealing with court cases.

"Alright, then," Ivan boomed, making Julius, who was scenting his omega, flinch. "We'll give you the rest of the day to catch up, but tonight, we decide your fate." The two young adults gave each other a look before looking at the other monarchs. Arthur nodded his head as he, with his arm hooked around Gilbert's waist, stood up. Ivan rose up after them, giving them a creepy wink before rushing out of the room. The omegas took their time, Arthur giving them directions to an unused room in the more secluded areas of the castle. With that, the four awkwardly left the study.

* * *

Arthur and Ivan strolled through the gardens, each tending to flowers. It had been a while since Arthur had had any help tending the garden since Julius had his accident. Every now and then Chancy could spare a few hours to help Arthur out, and spend time with him, but with his busy job it wasn't often. Now he had Ivan, who he wasn't particularly close to, but whom he could chill with easily.

"We don't have as many flowers in Moscow," he would say every now and then. "These would have trouble staying alive there." Arthur began teaching him the names of his flowers, at least the names Davie taught him. Ivan listened intently, nodding and repeating the name before moving onto the next flower. They were going at this for the better part of an hour before Geoffrey joined them. Arthur questioned why he was here, but the young man just shrugged, introducing himself to Ivan. For the next hour, Geoffrey taught the monarchs even more names of flowers, obviously the child had been listening to his father.

"I came out here because I quiz myself in flower names while I wait for Byron." He finally confessed randomly. "The flowers clear my head, soothes my nerves." Arthur nodded, understanding a bit. In moments like this, when Geoffrey was calm, sultry, and well-mannered, Arthur couldn't help but hope that Geoffrey would grow out of his reckless stages soon. He has been improving tremendously, Byron really whipping him into shape these last two years. The two were engaged now, despite only being 17 and 16, but the two didn't seem to be in a rush to get married. The two loved each other, Arthur knew, not because he could sense it, but because he deliberately used his magic to find out. He and Chancy were generally curious whether or not Geoffrey had any ulterior motives for his relationship with the kindest person in the castle, but after snooping and prying, it was clear his intentions were pure.

Of course, Arthur saw some other things, such as his explicit past with Julius, but that was killed off months before Julius even lost his arm and swore to priesthood. So, for that reason, Arthur kept that secret between him and Chancy. Though, Arthur often thinks about how hard a slap Byron planted on his lover's cheek after he had told him about his past with Julius. Geoffrey had to walk on egg-shells for weeks. Speaking of the devil, Byron, his light brown locks tied up in a bun, skipped over with a picnic basket in his hand. Before he greeted his partner, he bounced over to Arthur and Ivan, giving each a bow and asking about their day. Byron asked about Julius, and Arthur lied saying he was ill, and contagious, so he needed to be left alone. Byron offered to deliver some fresh porridge he had just made this morning, the source of the divine smell in the basket, Arthur had no doubts. Byron was a great cook.

"No, Byron, there's no need. You made that for yourself and Geoffrey, no doubt, you two should enjoy it." Arthur declined politely, placing a gentle kiss on Byron's forehead. The short omega insisted, handing the entire basket to Arthur.

"I can always just make more, please take it, your highness." He bowed, stepping away before grabbing hold of Geoffrey's hand. "We on't mind, right?" Geoffrey eyes the basket of delicious food longingly, before his green eyes focused on his queen's face. He bowed.

"Anything for the family." Arthur grimaced. Geoffrey only said that when he really didn't want to do something. Arthur took a whiff of the porridge one more, and found himself not blaming Geoffrey one bit for his reluctance. It smelled damned good. "Please, give Jules our best wishes. It's been a while since we've been able to see him." He added gently, and Byron nodded along too.

"Tell him we miss him." Byron urged. Arthur felt a warm sensation creep over his heart.

"Okay, I will," he promised, and he meant it. With that, the teens bowed one more time before walking out of the garden.

* * *

Arthur waited as Micah finished his rant, his blond curls flopping over his face. Arthur pushed the hair out of his face enough to see his bushy eyebrows that he had inherited from the queen. The new crowned king sunk to the floor, burying his face in his mother's lap. "I hate this job!" He sobbed. "I don't want to be king! I want to be duke, like before." Arthur stroked his tight curls gently, nodding his head absent-mindedly. Micah was the softer of the two twins, never one to take charge, but always quick to come to the defense of his sister. That's why that night Julius renounced the throne, Micah had no choice but to take it. He technically could have refused it, but then Desdemona, his twin sister, would have no choice but to take it, and it was no secret that Desdemona did not want to rule. Since then, however, Micah has been miserable, crying to Arthur almost every other month. As his mother he had comforted his baby as much as he could, but everyone knew that there wasn't much he could do.

Micah finally settled down, sniffing in his mother's comforting scent before passing out, utterly exhausted. Arthur stayed with him like that for a while, eyes welling up with tears, angered at how powerless he was against his children's misery. First Julius, and now Micah. Alfred stepped into the bed chamber some time later, confused as to why the queen and the future king were position the way they were. "He hates it," Arthur said for the 100th time since the day he became crowned prince. Alfred sighed, but held onto his silence. "Maybe... maybe our kids just aren't cut out to be monarchs. None of them wants the throne, they all want to be dukes or duchesses. None of them want the responsibility." The alpha looked at his queen with tired eyes before glaring down at his son.

"Well, one of them has to take one for the team, and it's him," he frowned, changing his shirt. "You know, usually princes fight for the throne, not against it. Whether Micah is upset or not, he's just going to have to deal with it. He's doing exceptional in all of his studies with Arnold, all thanks to your genes no doubts. Whether he likes it or not, he'll make a great king. Your father certainly thinks so." Arthur scowled at him. Arnold really fancied the boy, he knew, so he'd do anything to convince the king he was cut out enough.

"But even then, look at him." Arthur motioned to his lap, to the disheveled ball of sadness, exhaustion, and boredom. Alfred didn't look. "I said look at him! Our son! He's suffering."Arthur half screamed, and Alfred scowled at him.

"I felt the exact same way for years," he said dismissively. "I got over it after I met you."

"After you killed thousands of people, you mean." Arthur could feel the heat rising in the back of his head, Alfred was upset now. "Why turn our son into... into-

"Into what?" he snapped, turning around. He marched up to Arthur, who made challenging eye-contact. "A monster?"

"I was going to say into a ruthless person, but monster works too." Just then Micah lifted his head, probably hearing the entire conversation.

"Stop! It's not that serious." He scrambled to his feet, planting himself firmly in front of his mother in case things got physical. It never has, by the way, but Micah had seen too many of his knights abuse their omega wives just for speaking when not asked, he had slowly yet surely lost faith for all alphas, to some extent even his father. Alfred, though he was warm to his family and friends, he was cold as ice to everyone else, barely maintaining any basic manners. "I'm fine, I can handle it. I'm doing well," he told his mother as he still stared down his father who had gotten the hint and took an amused step back.

Everyone in the room knew that it Alfred wanted to get through Micah, he could have easily, but everyone was also aware that Arthur could very well protect himself and his son against the lycan quite easily as well. Micah was fully aware of how dangerous his parents were, but his instincts just told him to protect his mother, so he did. Alfred still wore an amused smile, probably seeing Micah as none other than a puppy. He tilted his head a little.

"Aw," he said patronizingly. "I knew you had some backbone in ya!" He swiftly turned around and pulled on a shirt. Some of Micah's anxiety lifted and he took a few steps towards his father until he was side by side with him. "Yes, my little bloodhound?" Alfred asked in a squeaky voice. Arthur wanted to hit Alfred for belittling their child, but Micah never really found the insults in things, and just buried his head into his father's chest. Alfred was shocked to say the least, but he didn't move, knowing Arthur would be even more upset with him for not showing the fragile prince some attention.

"I lied," Micah sighed heavily. "I'm not okay." Alfred took hold of his shoulders and pulled away gently so he could see his eyes. They were dull blue orbs, nothing like the shining ones he was used to. The king frowned before sighing himself.

"So I've heard..." He walked over to the couch he had in his chambers and plopped himself down, Micah close behind. Instead of sitting next to him, Micah sat in front of him, on the ground in a kneeling position. "What are you doing?" Alfred exasperated, but Micah didn't move.

"I'm weak," came a choked sob, and now Alfred was really concerned. He had never known Micah to be a crier. "I'm so sorry, but your highness I can't handle this anymore." Alfred commanded him to look at him, but Micah refused. "The only reason I'm about to tell what I am is because Desdemona threatened to tell you first, and I didn't want you to hear it from anyone but me." He sounded far calmer now, more calculated, as if he were mentally preparing himself for something.

"Please sit with me," Alfred pleaded this time, and Micah, not often hearing that side of his father, had no choice. He made zero eye-contact as he perched himself on the farther end of the couch. Arthur soon came to join them, and he tried to reach out and touch Micah's hand, the other flinched and stood up, shaking his head.

"I can't, I can't! Forget I said anything!" Before Alfred and Arthur could even react, Micah bolted out of the room and down the hall.

* * *

Alfred had cornered Anya and Desdemona out in the courtyard, the two flirting with a large group of idiot princes from who knows where. Alfred caught them asking them whether they knew any 'top secrets', and Alfred knew he had to interject. With a firm 'begone' the princes scattered away, and now he was staring down angrily at the two girls.

"They could have attacked you, you know." Alfred started, and Anya shook her pretty little face, her mop of black curls dancing.

"No, we could have killed them." She said cockily, and Alfred huffed. He placed his hands on his hips, you know, his dad pose, and the two girls groaned again. "I mean, I'm sorry that I dragged Dezzy into my antics, again, because there is no way that your little princess may have some deviant thoughts herself." Her voice oozed with sarcasm, chubby cheeks red in mild frustration. Her crystal eyes, like a cat, watched for any shift in his expression. There was none, Alfred made sure, no matter how hard he wanted to snarl at him.

"The dinner is starting soon, and... Desdemona, you look fine, but Anya..." Alfred started, scowling as he analyzed her outfit. She was wearing an all lace gown, and the only reason her body wasn't exposed was because she wore skimpy lingerie underneath it. "What are you wearing?" He couldn't hide his frustration, and Anya scowled at him.

"My mom said I could dress myself!" She argued, and Alfred gave her the LOOK. You know, the look that told her that no matter what she said next, she would not be getting her way. "That's not fair. I saw lady Annabelle's daughter wearing something equally revealing and you didn't say anything to her! I'm 16 for christ's sake, I'm an adult." A;fred scoffed.

"Anya, you're my niece, not lady Annabelle's daughter. Plus, I find far more men looking at you, than they do her!" Alfred hated explaining himself to Anya over and over, why didn't she just listen? "Do you want to get attacked? Huh?" He asked bluntly, taking the girls off guard. Anya got redder.

"No! B-but I can protect myself, and I never travel alone..." She trailed off, a little insecure now. "It's not my fault I'm... curvy. I've tried losing the weight but my ratio stays the same either way." She was hugging herself bashfully, and Alfred felt a bit of guilt, however, it was for her own good.

"I know, I know." Alfred said softly, whipping off his cape and wrapping it around her. "And no one will ever lay an un-consenting finger on you because I'm here, and your parents are here as well. We're all willing to die for your safety, but try making it easier for us, okay, at least until the creepy royals are gone." The girls nodded, allowing Alfred to walk them back to their rooms. To make sure his message stuck, he waited with his daughter by the door. Desdemona asked him about his day, which triggered his memory about the conversation he had with Micah a few hours ago. He had mentioned Desdemona knowing something. Alfred told her what happened in great detail, and her expression grew dark. "Maybe I should ask Arnold if he's als-"

"Don't you dare ask that disgusting old man!" Dezzy growled at him, blonde tresses floating, big eyes glowing green. Alfred put his hands up in defense before releasing a warning growl. Who did she think she was talking too? Alfred felt as if his entire family was turning against him. First Julius sleeping with the enemy, then Micah with not wanting to be king, and now Desdemona, talking to him as if she was his mother. Desdemona's hair flopped back down, but her eyes still glowed. What was setting her off?

"Well, who should I ask? Arnold spends a lot of his time with Micah, and yeah, sure he's a little senile, but he gets the job done and he like-"

"He touched Micah." She whispered, but she knew it was enough for her father to hear her. "During their private lessons, that bastard started calling Micah 'Pamela', and then Micah said he..." Her voice got heavy as she sunk to the floor, covering her face as she cried. Alfred could only look at her in shock before he fell to his knees. He somehow crawled over to his daughter, who clung to his shirt and sobbed. "He tried to force himself on him, but Micah got away. He told me, and I was about to tell you, but he told me he was going to do it himself. Daddy, I want to kill him!" Alfred only patted her head as he scooped her up. He banged on Anya's door, who quickly swung it open in shock.

"We're not going to the dinner, stay in your room, that's an order." She nodded dumbly before before closing the door. "And lock it!" Alfred yelled, and soon he heard the click of the door.

* * *

Alfred, Arthur and Desdemona paced the room, all eyes burning holes into Arnold. Arthur's eyes were red with tears, Alfred could only imagine how terrible he felt. The brit saw the other brit as a father, a mentor, a friend. Arthur shook his head in disgust, short bob moving fluidly.

"How could you?" He asked for the 13th time, and Arnold, also with tears in his eyes, shook his head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Arthur, sweetie-" Arthur almost gagged.

"Don't you dare call me that ever again! You tried to rape my son," He marched over, fists balled ready to strike the confused 60-something year old man. Alfred stopped him, though he himself wanted to rip his throat out.

"I don't remember doing that at all, you must believe me, I would never do anything to hurt my grandchildren." Alfred scoffed, almost slapping him himself.

"I'll kill you myself if you utter those words again. They are NOT your grandchildren." He warned, taking a menacing step towards the old man. "You're lucky I'm not into abusing the elderly."

"I would never-"

"You called him Pamela," Arthur started weakly. He looked like he was going to throw up. "Who was she?" He asked, and Arnold stiffened. "Who was she, and if you lie, I will find out!" He barked, and he nodded in fear.

"She was... my daughter." Everyone fell silent, before looking at each other, and then back at the old man. This time Arthur actually did throw up, and he rushed out of the room to do so in privacy. Desdemona left, cursing up a storm, literally. Now the once sunny day had storm clouds rolling over. Alfred looked at the madman in front of him.

"I let you around my kids..." He took a dangerous step closer. Alfred was going to kill him. He was planning on doing it publicly via guillotine, but now, he wanted to do it now, in private, where he could rip this most limb from limb. He wrapped his fingers around Arnold's flabby neck, looking into his fearful eyes.

"Wait...please, I can explain!" he begged.

"You raped your daughter, what else is there to explain. That itself is enough to kill you where you stand... sit." Alfred growled, squeezing harder.

"I would never rape Pamela, she loved me! She loved me! And Arthur looked so much like her that I knew we had to be blood. I tried courting him the right way, but he just starting calling me father-"

Alfred punched him hard in the gut, the old man keeling over. "You sick, sick-

"And Desdemona looked so much like her as well, but you never let her out of your sight, so I couldn't court her the right way." Alfred punched again, breaking his ribs. Arnold kept rambling though. "But the way he learned, just as fast as Pamela did, yes. Just as fast. I'm sorry, but my longing for Pamela must have confused me. I could have sworn Micah was flirting with-" Alfred punched his jaw, breaking it.

"I'm gonna kill you... I'm gonna-" Before Alfred could whip out his claws, he heard Arnold screaming. He looked up to see that Arnold's eyes were slowly popping out of his head. Upon closer inspection, his ears were bleeding too. His tongue was flailing as blood poured from his mouth and nose along with chunks of meat. It took Alfred a moment to realize it was pieces of his brain. Alfred looked on in disgust as the rapist groaned in agony, clutching his heart. It took a while for him to die, 4 minutes of pure agony in total. It was only after he was completely dead that Alfred turned around to see who did it, and it was, to his shock, Chancy, his left hand balled up in a fist, and the other hand clutching onto Micah's hand, the prince hiding behind his aunt.


End file.
